We Need This
by Gairi
Summary: When Mara Shepard gets bored of her intense Citadel party, she intends to "borrow" her favorite dashing pilot for a little while. It doesn't end the way either of them were expecting. Sometimes, what you wanted isn't what you needed. A Shooting Stars oneshot, rated T for some innuendo.


**We Need This**

Either Mara was back on drugs or she got way too drunk at her own party, because she never acted like this. Jeff wasn't about to protest, of course – when Mara Shepard starts kissing you harder than you've ever been kissed, you don't just pause to ask her what she's doing. It progressed to her room, with Mara seeming more heated than ever, and mere moments after she'd pushed Jeff to the bed, she was sliding off her dress.

"Mara," Jeff mumbled past her kisses and tugs on his jacket, "Mara, wait."

She furrowed her brow at him for a second before shimmying his arms out of his jacket. He held her by her shoulder to keep her from resuming the forceful kisses, and she pouted. "What?"

"It's a good party, Mars, but I don't know if it's _that_ good. What are you doing?"

She scoffed. "What does it look like I'm doing? Do you want this or not?"

He shook his head and looked down, trying to ignore the urge to forget he'd ever stopped her and slide his hands onto her waist. He had to admit, it was a promising thought.

"I know you," he murmured. "You don't usually act like this."

She frowned. Reluctantly, she hung her head. "Look, I… I don't know. You, um, you look good tonight. And it's getting loud in there, and… and I'm just stressed, okay? I need this."

"You're not the only one who's stressed to hell." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I don't think this is gonna help. I was thinkin' the same way you are now when all… that… went on with EDI." He gently turned her face toward him. "Remember?"

She nodded slowly and felt suddenly exposed in just her bra and underwear. She folded her arms and hugged them to herself, though it didn't make her feel any better. Jeff was feeling equally uncomfortable, judging by the look on his face. A blush started to burn across his cheeks and over his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck stiffly, avoiding Mara's eyes. "Look…"

She groaned quietly and laid on the bed beside him. "Oh, what am I doing, Jeff?" she cut in, her chin starting to tremble. "I… I'm just trying so hard to keep up with everything and I don't think I can do it."

His mouth felt dry and useless. He had to clear his throat twice before responding, which only served to make him more embarrassed. "It isn't all on you, though. Right? You've got a whole team. We can handle some of it."

She shook her head despondently. "But you can't. You all have everything else to worry about. Liara just… just watched her homeworld get crushed. Tali has to deal with the quarians and the geth, and Garrus has been fighting for Palaven since he got on this ship. You're…" she gave a shuddering exhale, unwilling to mention his worries.

That didn't stop them from reentering his mind, however. He felt his jaw clench and his lips tighten as he thought of the blue-skinned bitch who shot his sister, but he ached guiltily when he remembered that he'd been the one who told Mara to give her a gun. Indirectly, he'd murdered her out of sheer anger and hatred. He bristled when he realized Mara was his all-too-willing accomplice, but she had said she wouldn't interfere with his choice.

Maybe she should have.

He blinked, and tears fell against his will. She looked directly at him, tears now dripping down her cheeks as well. "Jeff, I can't do it. I just keep _losing_," she whispered before a harsh sob. "I don't know what to do."

A moment of thick, irritating silence passed before he hesitantly pulled an arm around her shoulders. The moment he did, her head fell onto his chest; whether or not that was against her will, neither of them could tell. She drew her knees toward her and locked her hands around whatever she could grab. Her fingers looked so tiny and delicate curled around fistfuls of his undershirt, so tightly clenched that they were bleach-white.

His eyes were fixed on her leanly muscled arms, locked in awkward and uncomfortable positions and trembling gently with her uneven intakes of breath. For nearly an hour, they just cried, finally releasing months of pent-up stress without judgment.

Mara fell asleep in that position, and Jeff, shortly after her. She only stirred once to tug his discarded jacket over her shoulders like a blanket. He didn't question it when they woke up the next morning – they were both too grateful for a full rest without nightmares.

* * *

_A.N.: It's coming up on my 1-year anniversary for Shooting Stars, and I'm so proud that I've been able to continue this beautiful story for so long. I owe a lot of that to my readers. I feel an obligation to you, and that stemmed an obligation to my story and my characters. I wouldn't feel right if I quit the story, because I'd be letting Mara and Joker down, but I'd also be letting you down. I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to post the stories as I do and I'm even more grateful that I have such supportive, polite, and fun people who give me such warm responses to my hard work. You've all made this possible for me, and you've all helped me grow a great deal as a writer. Thank you all, so much, and I hope the year ahead will be just as good as this one has been. So, from Mara and Joker (and me, of course), happy new year!_


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